Woes of a Werewolf
by KF182
Summary: Told through the eyes of both Sirius and Remus, this is a story of acceptance and friendship. Set in the third year of the Marauders' Era.


Disc.: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Not sure where this is going. I'll attempt to draw it to a natural end, but this is probably meant for greater things than just a oneshot. It's an idea that's been floating in my head for a few weeks now, and it's slowly taking shape. As you all know, I'm pretty fixated on the Marauders' reaction to Remus' secret, and especially Sirius' thoughts on the subject. Can't help it, and if you don't like it, move on.

Important: This story is told through a third person narrator, but the "----" signify the change from focusing on Remus to focusing on Sirius. It's fairly understandable. The dialogue's a bit sparse, but this was more of an exercise in (hopefully) good writing than anything else, so I apologize if it doesn't carry the weight of a good fanfic.

----

"Woes of a Werewolf"

He was sitting at the window, staring out into the deep, bruised sky. As dawn approached, the boy did not fail to see the bitter irony in the appearance of the early morning heavens. The sun's glow penetrated even the thickest cloud, and the sky was mottled with deep, rusty reds and the swiftly fading blue of the night. The boy, who knew that his own body resembled the angry skies, simply shook his sandy hair and twisted his mouth into a painful grin.

He moved stiffly from his seat and grimaced as his weary body was forced into this vertical position. After all, the boy had been sitting at the window for hours, and he had not slept at all since his return to the large room.

As the broken boy (for he certainly felt broken) cautiously stepped away from the window sill, he noted the room's other occupants.

Farthest from the window, a plump figure slept, curled in a tight ball. His thinning, coarse blond hair was mussed from a night of tossing and turning. His chest rose softly, and a slight snore escaped as he slept. His name was Peter.

In the next bed a wiry youth dozed. His dark chestnut hair was in a state of permanent disarray, and he slept as if he had no troubles in the world. He had the easy look of a born athlete, and even in this somnolent state he looked contented. He slept on his back, with his closed eyes directly opposite the deep blue of the bed's canopy. He was called James.

Finally, in the bed that was second closest to the window, the last boy slumbered. He was significantly taller than the other sleeping boys. His black hair was not as disheveled as the others', and in fact, he appeared perfectly put together even while unconscious. The only detractor from this peaceful state was the manner in which this last boy slept. He lay, limbs spread-eagled, in such a fashion that the onlooker might even think that his bones were broken. He was Sirius.

The boy who gingerly leaned against the bedpost of the sole empty bed was named Remus, and he was wide awake. It was five in the morning, and as usual, he could not sleep. His tired mind thought aimlessly of the night before- his own blood on his teeth, the broken wood flying everywhere, and most overwhelmingly, the sheer pain. He wanted to cry aloud, as much in frustration as in complaint for his injures, but he could not. His eyes, which were an unusual shade of green, surveyed those who shared his room. They were his best friends.

While this thought had been voiced silently, Remus' next reflection was vocalized. "Which is why they can't see me like this," he muttered softly. The moonlight was fading, and with its passing, the sun was rising. Remus shared the sun's bloodied countenance, and that was precisely why he desperately needed a shower.

----

Remus was rarely wrong about anything. In fact, those that knew him well could only remember three times during which Remus had been gravely mistaken about something.

The first was when he was five, and he made the mistake of thinking that all young boys were forced to go into a locked room once a month and turn into a scary monster.

The second was during his first year of Hogwarts, when Remus had honestly believed that his three closest friends would be incapable of forgiving him for his lycanthropy.

The third was at this very moment, as Remus convinced himself that no one truly knew how bruised and scarred he was upon returning from his monthly transformations. Remus was very, very wrong in believing in his friends' oblivion. In fact, two people in Remus' dormitory knew of his self-inflicted wounds. The first being, of course, Remus himself, who had to confront this gruesome sight far too often.

The second person was, at the moment, lying in his four-poster bed, feigning a deep sleep. Once a month, despite Remus' best intentions as he slipped into the room during the early dawn, this person awoke to the sight of one of his closest friends cleaning his wounds. As Remus removed his torn robes to examine the damage from the previous night, another boy looked on.

This person was Sirius Black.

----

Sirius Black was no stranger to the sort of wounds that marred Remus' pale skin. As a member of a solidly pureblood house, Sirius had either encountered those with a similar assortment of scars, or been on the receiving end of such damage. And yet Sirius felt something stir within him every time Remus returned from the Shrieking Shack looking so pained.

Sirius, James, and Peter had discovered Remus' secret during the last half of their second year at Hogwarts. Sirius had, throughout the last months of his second year, watched Remus limp into the dormitory many times. He never said anything, because he knew that Remus wanted no company directly following his haunting transformations. But it was not just for Remus' sake that Sirius kept quiet; in fact, the great Sirius Black had to admit (albeit only to himself) that he was at a total loss for words. Sirius had no idea as to what he could say to his best friend after Remus had endured a night of self-inflicted agony.

And so, even though Sirius said nothing about this monthly trial, he forced himself to watch Remus closely during those early mornings. Remus never spoke of his time in the Shack- James, Sirius knew, did not have the tact nor the stomach to hear of what happened on those nights, and Peter was the sort of bloke who was often incapable of truly understanding other people's problems. He lacked empathy, Sirius thought.

But Sirius was never able to explain away one fact that was increasingly obvious as the months wore on. There was no reason, Sirius thought, that barred Remus from speaking to _him_ about "it." Just thinking about Remus inexplicable reticence made Sirius feel sick.

So, without Remus' knowledge, Sirius watched Remus slowly recuperate after a night as a werewolf. It was his only connection to Remus' other life.

----

Remus had been able to heal all of the noticeable injuries himself- not since his first year as a Hogwarts student had he allowed Madam Pomfrey to attend to him- but Remus' movements were justifiably limited by the gash that ran from his shoulder to his hip. That injury had been the result of a particularly nasty bit of scratching, and for some reason, it refused to heal. Remus tried to put the pain out of his mind and focus on Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lecture, but he soon found his mind drifting…

He settled on watching James and Sirius whisper furiously. Remus allowed the ghost of a smile to play across his lips as he thought of the sort of ill-planned prank that occupied the boys so totally. As he turned slightly in his desk, Remus found that he was able to catch a few words of James and Sirius' conversation.

James looked positively mutinous; no doubt a feeling that could be attributed to Sirius' smug attitude. "I swear, Sirius," James muttered, "lay off it!"

"I have no idea what you're babbling about, James," Sirius said coolly.

"Yes, you do," James said fiercely. "And I know what's you're planning…"

Remus' curiosity had been stirred. Subtly, he leaned in a bit more in order to hear more about this new prank.

"Come on, James. You can't tell me that you're not the least bit curious to know why he won't talk about it?"

Remus felt dizzy. What was it that caused such a difference of opinions?

"Damn it, Sirius. If he wants to talk about it, he will. We are not going to confront him!"

Sirius shrugged. "Suit yourself. And remember that you started this conversation, not me. I do think that maybe you'd want to be a bit of a better friend to Remus, you know."

All of the air was shoved out of Remus' lungs. He was shaking in his seat, completely unable to listen to McGonagall describing the incantation for changing a rabbit into a footstool. It had been an unspoken agreement, ever since last year when his friends had discovered his secret, that they would not speak of his lycanthropy. Some things, in Remus' opinion, were better left untouched, even by the best of friends. Yes, there were some nights when Remus felt that if he could just speak to _someone_ about the monthly transformations, the ugly brutality and indecency of it all would lighten. But he always pushed that weak thought from his mind. If Sirius, James, and Peter knew anything more about his transformations, Remus knew he would find himself friendless. After all, there was only so much that a man could take. Remus understood that no one wanted to listen to the woes of a werewolf.

----

Sirius had been fuming ever since Transfiguration. For some reason, he had allowed himself to be dragged into another conversation with James about the merits of simply discussing Remus' problem with Remus himself. James always maintained that if Remus needed to talk about it, he would approach someone. Sirius' argument remained the same: Remus might not know that he needed to talk about it, and therefore, as his best friends, they were bound to help him out by making the first move. And now, hours later, the issue of Remus still occupied Sirius' mind. He stared into the fire.

Maybe James is right, Sirius thought bitterly. I don't understand why it irks me so much that Remus doesn't want to talk about his…problem.

But Sirius did understand, in a way. Sirius was no stranger to keeping secrets, and he completely understood Remus' need to keep his lycanthropy under tight wraps. Sirius even got that Remus did not want to make it a huge deal, because that would only make it harder for him to face the full moon.

What Sirius did not understand was a by-product of his own pride and arrogance: Remus had clearly decided that it would upset and disgust his three closest companions if he talked about his other side. But the fact that Remus considered Sirius to be just as mildly intolerant and confused as the others was like a knife in Sirius' own heart. Sirius knew that between himself, James, and Peter, he was the most likely candidate to fully comprehend Remus' guilt at being (partly, at least) a Dark beast.

After all, Sirius was not just "Sirius."

He was Sirius _Black_. That name came with a grave stigma- when he had first arrived at Hogwarts, he had been considered evil simply because of five letters that he could not change. Sirius' situation had always been similar to Remus' in that both boys were judged by what they were, not _who_ they were. Sirius had masked his hurt at the whispers and the stares by adopting the painfully arrogant attitude that came hand in hand with the name of the Blacks. In retrospect, Sirius knew that it perhaps had not been the best of ideas to appear so scornful if he wanted to make friends, but after all, everything had turned out all right.

But even the prideful Sirius had to admit that the outcome of his first few months was the fruit of Remus' efforts. Remus had been gracious and accepting of Sirius, both before and after he understood the weight of his name. At a time when no one could truly understand Sirius, Remus had been there. Sirius owed a debt to the friend who had essentially saved his life.

While Sirius lounged in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, mulling over the problem that was Remus, the boy himself had slipped into the room. At first he had not said anything or even moved for the case- the sight of Sirius Black staring aimlessly into the fire, clearly in deep thought, did not bode well. After a few moments of silent staring, Sirius shook his head as if to clear the unpleasant thoughts and looked up.

"Oh. Hey, Remus," Sirius said as he assumed a mask of easy-going humor. "Come on in, you bugger."

Remus realized belatedly that he had been standing in the doorway to the common room, which looked rather odd. He sighed and stepped further into the room, his feet leading him automatically to a seat by Sirius. "What's going on, Sirius?"

Sirius shuddered inwardly as he detected the slight icy undertone in Remus' voice. Almost immediately Sirius connected the pieces- Remus' absence throughout the day, his reluctance to sit down, and this cold voice- and he realized that Remus had to have overheard a rather sensitive issue being discussed. Sirius was not quite sure as to how he knew that Remus had overheard the discussion in Transfiguration, but he was sure that Remus had.

"Nothing," Sirius lied smoothly. But he forgot that while such a lie would work with many of Hogwarts inhabitants, both James and Remus could see right through those sorts of things. They knew Sirius far too well to be fooled by what was a weak excuse in the first place. Remus cocked an eyebrow, and then laughed softly.

"'Nothing,' is it? There's absolutely 'nothing' going on, then?"

Sirius winced and echoed Remus' earlier sigh. "Fine, then. I wanted to talk to you about it ages ago, but James seemed to think that…"

Remus raised a hand deliberately. "No, Sirius. James is right on this one." Carefully watching Sirius' face, Remus ruthlessly added, "If I had wanted to talk to you, I would have."

Sirius grimaced, and Remus saw the expression of hurt slide easily off his friend's angular face. It was replaced with something much harsher, and Remus was slightly startled when Sirius found his voice. It was not a voice of a friend, but that of one who is barely an acquaintance. "Fine, Remus. I completely understand- this sort of thing is rather…unpleasant, if you know what I mean."

It was Remus' turn to look hurt as Sirius walked composedly out of the common room.

----

Over breakfast the next morning, a certain familiar figure's absence was duly noted.

"Oy, Sirius?"

"Yeah, James?" Sirius replied in between shovels of oatmeal.

James wrinkled his nose and tossed Sirius a napkin. "Where's Remus?"

Sirius accepted the napkin with a glare and delicately wiped his mouth in an exaggerated show of manners. "Dunno. Maybe it's the full moon."

James hissed in anger. "Hell, Sirius! Watch your voice, someone might hear you…And plus, you know that the moon was just a few days ago. We talked about it, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot."

James shook his head. This was typical Sirius playing the brat. "Oh, bugger off, Sirius."

Sirius laughed, but there was something a bit off in his tone. "Alright then, James. I'm off for Quidditch anyways."

Sirius threw his napkin at a passing Hufflepuff, and James snorted. "Hey, Sirius, give me a second and I'll come…"

He trailed off and realized that Sirius was long gone, his robes already disappearing out of the Dining Hall. "Damn Blacks," James muttered and hurriedly followed his odd friend out of the Hall.

Sirius had known that he needed to get out of the Dining Hall before he let something slip about Remus. Sirius, of course, knew exactly why Remus had been so conspicuously absent that morning. While James and Sirius only ate breakfast when there was a Saturday practice, Remus always ate in the Dining Hall. In fact, it was something that James in particular had ragged on Remus about, laughing at his early rising, and so it was only expected that the werewolf's absence was instantaneously noticed.

Shaking a stray lock of hair from his face, Sirius went over his prior conversation with Remus. Something in the other boy's voice had simply set Sirius over the edge, but what was it?

Sirius reckoned that it had to have been Remus callous refusal of discussing his lycanthropy. "Gods be damned, Remus," he muttered aloud. Several of the nuns in a nearby painting tittered in disapproval, but Sirius had already swept by them. He followed the narrow staircase to a little-used tower that had long been a haunt of Sirius and his friends. Unbidden, the image of James and Sirius lighting up a cigarette and blowing spoke at Remus and Peter, who coughed and sputtered, sprang into Sirius' mind. That had been the last time the four boys had been to this tower before Remus' secret came out. Sometimes, Sirius wished that everything had stayed the same, and Remus' secret had remained just that- a secret.

Sirius had a vague idea that Remus could somehow sense that desire, and perhaps Sirius' slight fear of change, and maybe that was why Remus could not confide in him. But Sirius dismissed that idea as he pushed open the tower's trapdoor and slipped inside. It was a small, circular room with large glassless windows. Sirius threw himself down against the stone wall, lit a cigarette, and sighed. He hated change.

----

Remus had risen extra early in hopes of avoiding Sirius. After all, their conversation from the night before still rang in his ears, taunting and teasing the sleep-deprived boy. As Remus slid quietly from his bed, he remembered Sirius' sudden and unwelcome change in demeanor. Somehow Remus could not completely attribute this metamorphosis to his own comments; Remus suspected that something far more menacing than his cool brush-off loomed over Sirius Black.

As he wandered the empty halls of Hogwarts, Remus reflected on the last transformation. It had been particularly painful, and the damage that Remus had exacted on both himself and the Shrieking Shack had been horrific. Remus had an idea that the extensive injury he had done to himself was increased because of his distracted demeanor. Normally, when facing a transformation, Remus concentrated solely on that fact. He found that focusing on the change from man to beast eased the pain somewhat, but he had been far too tired to attempt such concentration. And now he had to deal with an unhealed wound and an irritating friend- just perfect.

Remus had always secretly wondered about Sirius Black. It was a nagging thought that crept up on Remus during the darkest of nights. Sometimes, Remus thought that Sirius looked straight through him. It was as if the taller boy could see everything that Remus sought so adamantly to hide- at first, his werewolf side, and then later, the extreme pain and horror of the transformations. It was if he could hide nothing from hs equally haunted friend. Remus knew that eventually Sirius and the other boys would find him one night, with the scratches and bruises mottling his pale skin. But hopefully that moment was far off, for Remus was not sure how he would deal with such a confrontation.

It was hard for Remus to explain, even to himself, why it was so important to keep the others in the dark regarding the actuality of his transformation. Remus sensed that with the more details he let slip, the more his friends would be repulsed by their tainted friend. After all, Remus did not exactly have any proof that they would not flee if Remus described the torture he enacted upon himself.

When Sirius and James had discovered Remus' secret, James had gone into a state of shock. Remus knew that James' inability to cope with this discovery was more related to his personality than actual disgust for Remus, but it still hurt. James had come around a few days after the revelation, and he had been full of nothing but apologies for his initial reaction. Remus had immediately forgiven his friend, because James' reaction was actually better than he had ever hoped for from his somewhat flighty friend.

But it was Sirius, Remus thought as he passed a tapestry depicting a brutal witch hunt, who had truly surprised Remus. Instead of following James' lead and taking what is, in Remus' opinion, the easy (and understandable) way out, Sirius had stayed. He had listened closely and attentively to every word that poured forth from Remus' trembling lips. Once Remus' throat was hoarse from their long conversation, Remus allowed his voice to fade. The overwhelming fear of being hated and reviled flooded Remus body, but the two boys simply sat in silence. Then, Sirius said five words that surprised Remus, as they are not what one usually says after discovering that one's best friend is a werewolf.

"Right, then. What's for dinner?" Sirius had asked casually, as if the whole incident was utterly inconsequential.

But Remus knew that it was not out of inconsiderateness that Sirius had showed so little reaction to Remus' story. Remus had practically been able hear the wheels turning in the other boy's head as he had worked out the finest details, run over the explanations, and come to terms with the truth about Remus.

Remus sighed audibly. "How naïve was I," he thought aloud. "to think that he might be able to accept it? Why didn't I see this coming?"

Remus reached his destination- the stairs up to the South Tower- and began his ascent. If he had been truly focused on his progress, his finely tuned nose might have picked up the scent of human, still fresh from another person's sojourn into the all but abandoned tower. But Remus had already returned to reviewing the details of his conversation with Sirius, and the clue that revealed another's presence in the tower eluded the boy.

As he stepped into the tower, Remus said aloud, "How long will I have to avoid him?"

A voice issued from the corner of the bare room, saying wryly, "Apparently, not very long."

"Sirius," Remus realized. "I'm sorry- I should just go…" Remus turned to head back down the stairs, flushed with anxiety.

Sirius stood, and despite his desperate wish to accept his friend's offer, he shook his head. "Nah, we have got to talk sometime." He threw his cigarette down onto the stone and ground it into the floor. Remus winced, and Sirius recalled his friend's dislike of both smoking and the way in which Sirius discarded his cigarettes. He shrugged unapologetically, and Remus stiffened.

"Let's sit," Remus said. Sirius nodded, and the boys settled down on the cold floor.

Remus inhaled deeply, and began. "Sirius, I'm sorry about last night-"

"No, you're not," Sirius interjected. "I mean, you don't have any reason to be sorry. Look, it's my fault- I was in a bad way when we talked. And I didn't mean for you to hear me and James talking; that was stupid planning on my part. Or, rather, his fault." Sirius offered a grin, his bright white teeth exposed. Remus saw little humor in the situation, and shook his head abruptly.

"No, that's not it. Sometimes I have the feeling that you never accepted my…problem…I sometimes feel that you are disgusted by it," Remus said in a low voice. It was better to get this out in the open, he reasoned, and this is the only way to go about it.

"You've got it backwards," Sirius laughed harshly. "I am disgusted, but not with you."

"With what, then?"

"Myself!" Sirius said angrily, suddenly rising. "You never talk about it, Lupin! You hide it all beneath that mask of humility, and you don't ever open up. Can't you see how that makes me feel?"

"Oh yes, I see that my reluctance to parade my problems about is really taxing you."

Sirius caught the sarcastic, biting edge in Remus' voice, but he chose to disregard it. "It _is_ taxing me. Why do you want to suffer alone? Is it a thing of pride, or of embarrassment? Talk to me; I want to hear."

Now it was Remus' turn to rise, and he stood level with his friend. With great effort, he controlled his voice. "Damn it, Sirius. I don't want you to hear, or to see, anything. This is me, not you. I am fine, and you can't try and fix me because I am not broken. I know what you think, Sirius, and for once this is not about you, nor does it concern you!"

Through this impassioned speech, Remus had been gesturing with his arms. Now Sirius caught one of those moving limbs, and brutally lifted it higher. Remus gasped with pain.

"I was right," Sirius said. "You are not fine, Remus."

Both boys silently watched a patch of blood burst and flower on the side of Remus' white cotton shirt. "Damn it, Sirius…" Remus repeated, but this time his tone was void of anger. "How did you know?"

"I saw it," Sirius responded simply.

"In a vision?" Remus questioned confusedly.

"No. I saw it, the morning of your transformation. I see it every morning- I watch you come in, and hide your pain because you think we'll run from it!"

"Well, won't you?" the werewolf said softly.

"No!" Sirius said again emphatically. "You don't get it, do you? The three of us, we swore to keep your secret and to accept you for yourself. We're keeping up our end of the deal, but maybe you forgot what you promised us."

"I haven't forgotten…"

"You said you would confide in us, because we had earned your trust. You're hiding part of yourself, Remus, and I've seen it all. I've seen you come back each month, broken! And yet you refuse to speak about it."

"It's hard."

"I know. So's life, but we deal with it."

Remus stared at Sirius. He spoke one word, murmuring, "How?"

"By letting our friends help us. Remus, you saved me in our first year. I had no friends, and everyone thought I was a monster. Everyone except you. So let me help you, starting with that little scrape…"

Remus laughed shortly, masking a hiss of pain as Sirius prodded the cut. "Always a master of the understatement."

Sirius laughed in return, saying, "It's my one talent."

Remus threw an arm over his friend's shoulder, and feeling as if the shackles had been lifted, he allowed Sirius to help him down the long flight of stairs. Maybe, just maybe, he could let his friends into his complete, total life…

----

Author's Note: So, what do we think? It's just a bit of fluff, I suppose, but I worked at it for a few days. It took my mind off life, which I sorely needed. Anyways, do review. Let me know especially if Sirius is too OOC (I didn't think so as I wrote it, but upon reflection…), because I could always do a rewrite if necessary. Not too happy with the ending, but that's the way the cookie crumbles…


End file.
